Unashamed Misfit
by solista
Summary: Everyone is a misfit before they become conventional.


**Unashamed Misfit**

"Don't you even care what people think of you," turning in his saddle to glare back at his younger brother, Scott Lancer gave a huff and turned back around, frustration on his face and anger in his slate blue eyes.

Darting his eyes around the passing country side the Boston bred, conventional Lancer son shook his blond-haired head and looked back around at his brother, "Johnny, it's situations like that back in town that has Murdoch so infuriated with you."

When Johnny did not even look up, "Well, what do you have to say for yourself?"

The dark-haired youngest Lancer son picked his head up and grinned at his frustrated 'big' brother. Dark blue eyes dancing with devilment and laughter, "Dios mi hermano, you sound just like tha 'Old Man'," seeing Scott's lips pull tight and fire in his light blue eyes Johnny Lancer threw out an arm startling his horse making the palomino skitter away from his stable mate, "come on Scott it was no big deal."

Pulling back on his reins Scott stopped his horse until Johnny got his mount under control to stand quietly beside him, "That may have not bothered you in the least, but rest assure it bothered me and it will most likely 'bother' our father."

Johnny sighed and draped his hands over the pommel of his saddle, "look, ya gotta understand, when I was growin' up, I fought for my right ta just draw air. With a wave of his arm, "that back there was nothin'."

Scott's face softened as he contemplated his 'little' brother.

A young man raised with no semblance of a family from the age of ten, if not before. The Lancer 'family' found that Johnny Madrid Lancer did not talk overly much about his youth, his formative years before he found himself as Johnny Madrid, gun for hire.

From the short time since the brother's came home to Lancer and their father, Scott knew his brother bucked convention and went about his own unashamed, unconventional way of life.

In addition, it unnerved their father, Murdoch Lancer, to the heights of the tallest peak of the mountain range surrounding the San Joaquin Valley, henceforth the butting of two of the most stubborn men in the valley.

An uncharacteristic slouch in his saddle and a stare at his brother, Scott sighed, "I know you don't talk about your past, and I can respect that."

Locking light blue eyes to dark blue eyes, "but how am I to know when you thumb you nose at proper manners and portray the misfit to our neighbors and our father's friends as well as Lancer's business associates that that was how you were raised."

Johnny bowed his head and in a soft voice, "didn't have no one around ta 'raise' me right an' proper like you Boston. What I got was an express train ta growin' up fast. I had ta grow a hard shell 'round me ta even stay alive," lifting his head his eyes were ice, "I had ta put a mask on ta hide tha fear an' shame of not havin' anyone in my life."

Picking up his loose reins, "an' if I ain't accepted by your standards then it's your loss, not mine an' I get along just fine by myself."

Johnny neck reined his horse and kicked the animal, Scott sighed as the dust settled around where his brother had been, speaking to no one, "well that went well."

Scott knew his brother could be touchy, he had seen it enough between the boy and their father. Scott was at a loss, his unthinking mouth over ran his rational mind.

Gently kicking his own horse into motion, 'how to fix this mess, perhaps Murdoch could give a 'fatherly' insight, "come on Charlie let's get home and soothe some ruffled feathers."

 **Fatherly Insight**

Scott leaned back against Murdoch Lancers big oak desk, his arms folded over his chest as he watched the old stallion take on the challenge from the younger.

Murdoch and Johnny had gone on about the 'incident' since after dinner.

Scott did appreciate that Murdoch waited until after dinner to paw the ground and begin the charge.

Johnny, leaning with insolence against the fireplace mantle, arms folded over his chest stood quietly as their father raged and postured.

When the older man turned disgusted away from his younger son, Johnny pounced.

"Ya finished 'Old Man', 'cause I got a few things ta say, you don't have a right ta tell me how ta live my life. Yeah, yeah I know ya didn't throw me an' my momma out, I understand, I do. But I raised myself, made my own mistakes, learned a lot of hard lessons."

Johnny turned away from his father's sad eyes, the condemnation of how his younger son turned out, his failure as a father.

Leaning once more on the fireplace mantle Johnny turned back around, "I ain't layin' blame on your doorstep, just tellin' ya how it is. I just don't fit inta your perfect life."

Scott stood straight and moved closer to his 'family', "If I may," two pair of blue eyes shifted his way. "All of this cannot be settled over night and with raised voices."

Scott moved closer to his father and brother, "Johnny is not totally to blame for misapprehensions perceived by our neighbors or business associates."

Approaching his brother Scott reached out and placed a hand on Johnny's shoulder, with a smile to Johnny he turned to their father, "Johnny has nothing to be ashamed of. He is his own man, he is intelligent, and his life unconventional to most men and his past is just that, past."

Johnny bowed his head; his brother could sure talk a good talk. Wrapping his arms around his middle in a self-hug, the younger Lancer sighed.

His life had not been like most men, but then most men would not have grown into adult hood, but had succumbed to the trials of a border town mestizo.

Johnny was not ashamed of who he had become, it was an honored life down on the border. He hired his gun to men too weak to defend themselves or who didn't want the blood on their hands.

Johnny Madrid had honor, had a code he himself lived by. He was not a Fancy Dan, didn't need silverware and china to dine on, or rules to follow. He had morals.

Murdoch Lancer stopped pouring his glass of liquid courage, "has someone said things to you John?"

Johnny glanced up at his father and shrugged, "nuthin' I ain't heard before. I don't got a problem with it an' you shouldn't either. Just how it is."

Murdoch put his half-full glass on the cart top and turned to his sons, "Scott?"

It was a question the elder Lancer son was waiting for, "Liam Buckles did not like it that you sent Johnny to collect for the bull he bought last week. Mr. Buckles thought you had sent a hired gun to make sure he paid.

Johnny took offence and told Mr. Buckles Murdoch Lancer did not need a gun to do business with an honest man. That if he didn't want to pay the agreed price that Lancer still owned the bull and he would put a bullet between the bull's eyes and have steak for dinner."

Scott shifted his feet, "Mr. Buckles then paid Johnny, and told him never to come back and to tell you he would do business elsewhere."

Johnny quietly decided he could live in the bunkhouse and still own a piece of Lancer. No one was going to push him off this land not even a reluctant father.

He could hear his father clear his throat, "well get it said 'Old Man'. Just know this I ain't goin' anywhere."

As Murdoch moved closer to him, Johnny felt his mouth go dry; he had never felt so young. No man scared him, but the younger man had respect for someone bigger than himself.

He didn't flinch when Murdoch raised his hand, 'dios one punch from his father's fist would send him into next Tuesday.'

Murdoch gently placed that hand on Johnny's shoulder, "son, I'm sorry you had to experience that from someone I thought was a friend. You are part owner in Lancer and people around here will have to take notice of that or do their business somewhere else. I don't tolerate bigotry, and no one will disrespect a son of mine."

Turning from his son, "now I need a drink. Scott, John?"

Scott grinned, "Yes sir a drink would be accepted."

Johnny, head bowed and arms crossed, "you ain't mad?"

Murdoch poured and handed Scott a glass, "at you, no John I am not mad at you, I am mad for you."

As Murdoch took a sip of his imported whiskey, he looked at the bowed head of his younger son. Johnny was a strong boy to have survived the border towns around Mexico and turn out to be a caring soul, though he tried so hard to hide it.

Why was it as a father he could not loosen the rope he tried so hard to hold onto. Johnny was intelligent, wise beyond his short years, and unbendable.

As he took the minute to view his younger son Murdoch smiled, "you have your mother's temper. Now don't get me wrong John, your mother was a strong person, no one and I mean no one stepped on her and didn't hear an earful."

Johnny's head came up with a grin on his face, blue eyes sparkling, "yeah Momma sure could let loose with a mouthful. Then she just gave up."

Murdoch nodded, "I loved your mother John, but she had her own music she danced to."

"Guess your tune callin' wasn't ta her likin', huh," Johnny smiled and Murdoch's heart beat a little faster.

That smile, so much like Maria's, "you are right mi hijo, Maria was a free spirit."

Johnny's smile turned to a frown, "she had her wings clipped by her 'free spirited-ways. She gave up even on me."

Scott stood silent, his 'free spirited' little brother very seldom talked about his life on the border or his mother.

Johnny's frown turned up at the edges his blue eyes far away in the past, remembering, "Momma always told me 'stick an' stones may break my bones, but words would never hurt me',"

"After I stopped bein' a kid I understood what she meant, I could take anything anyone ever said," with a small chuckle he continued, "cept when their words hurt my Momma, guess she forgot what she told me."

"I learned how ta fight ta make 'em take back the words, an' those 'good' people never said a bad thing against Momma again, least where I could hear."

"Thank you John," Murdoch murmured, "for being a good son to your mother."

Johnny shifted from the fireplace and slowly walked towards the door, "Yeah, just not good enough. She died."

Scott moved himself to put is glass down and follow his brother but Murdoch's voice stopped him, "no son, let him go. He will be ok when he has a few minutes to himself. Maria was the same way, moody, give her time and she settled down, forgetting what set her off."

Scott came to sit in the chair facing his father, "I thought at first Johnny was easily pushed into a fight, his temper getting the best of him but I realize now it was only if someone said anything derogatory about family or Lancer."

Murdoch smiled, his own eyes remembering the past, "Maria was that way when she first came here. She gave as good as she got, before long the naysayers learned to keep their opinions to themselves. Then she… she became unhappy. Maybe I didn't pay enough attention to her; maybe I gave too much attention to Johnny…. I may never know why she left."

Scott sat back in his chair and looked at his father, the man having gone through so much to build something for his sons, sons he had never forgotten, "perhaps there was no viable reason behind her leaving, a mystery left to the past."

Murdoch nodded, "yes a mystery best left in the past," with a murmur the Lancer patriarch sat forward.

Scott did not catch the word his father used, "Sir?"

With a chuckle, "Oh sorry son, the word I used in Spanish meant 'misfit', Johnny's mother made many people nervous she was, to the 'conventional' people, unashamed about who she was, where she was from and how she conducted herself in polite society, she was Maria."

Scott had to smile their father had just described the younger Lancer son, "just like Johnny he walks with a swagger, is comfortable in his own skin and thumbs his nose at proper society. Don't get me wrong, Johnny deports himself very well when we are out attending business or at a social dance he is not a barbarian, someone taught him manners."

"It was Momma," the voice startled both men. Johnny could move quiet as a cat.

Father and brother smiled as the younger man moved into the room and took his stance in front of the fireplace, "I was taught which fork ta use, how ta wipe my face with a napkin and how ta greet people."

Scott grinned, his slate blue eyes dancing with laughter, "I have seen you at the breakfast table in the mornings, Johnny, and Maria always has to reprimand you for some inappropriate behavior."

Scott had to chuckle remembering Maria, the Lancer housekeeper and cook pat her wooden spoon against the hand of her Nino.

Johnny grinned back at his brother, "yeah well, it was a long time between dinner an' breakfast, I was starvin'".

At that moment the before mentioned Maria entered the great room with a silver serving tray and the silver coffee carafe and fine china cups.

Behind her came Teresa, the Lancer brother's surrogate 'sister' and Murdoch Lancer's ward, her tray was filled with small cakes and cookies.

Johnny rushed forward to take the heavy tray from Maria as Scott jumped from his chair to help his 'sister' with the dessert tray.

Murdoch smiled; he had such gentlemen as sons then laughed as Johnny snatched a cookie from the dessert tray before it found its place on the coffee table.

"Johnny, can't you wait," Teresa pushed back a stray lock of dark hair from her face.

"Juanito, you have better manners chico," Maria chided the younger Lancer son.

With cookie crumbs on his lips and down the front of his shirt Johnny grinned and wiped a hand over his lips and his shirtfront, "Lo siento mamacita, lo siento mi hermana, my stomach told me to do it."

Maria placed a hand on her Chico's cheek, "then you must feed the beast, but sit and act civil," Maria smiled as she left the room.

Teresa had a grin on her face as she looked on at the familial gesture of the Lancer housekeeper. Considered as family, Maria helped raise her, "you're lucky Maria didn't have her spoon with her."

Serving Murdoch a cup of coffee and a plate with an assortment of sweet treats, she smiled at her guardian.

Scott helped himself to coffee and a plate of delicacies, "to what do we owe this feast of outrageous sweets."

Teresa slapped at Johnny's hand and connected as he reached for his own treasures, "wait your turn, you won't starve before you are properly served."

Johnny waved his injured hand as if the tap had really hurt, looking at his father, "you gonna let her get away with hittin' me?"

Murdoch smiled around the cookie he took a bite of and lowered the treat, swallowing slowly, "you shouldn't provoke your sister."

Scott grinned, "Yes little brother, and another thing, you need to learn to be patient."

Teresa held out a plate overflowing with desserts, she knew how the younger Lancer son loved his sweets, Maria had told her that Johnny probably never had the chance to enjoy sweets growing up, the poor along the border did not have much, and sweets were for special occasions.

Johnny gave his 'sister' one of his, light-up the darkness smiles, "gracias querida."

"You are most welcome, sir," Teresa turned back to Scott, "to answer your question about this fabulous spread, Carmella Sanchez and Roberto Menendez are getting married and Maria and myself are trying new recipes."

Johnny mumbled something with his mouth full. Looking at three sets of eyes on him he placed a hand over his mouth, swallowed as fast as he could without choking, "so all it takes is someone getting' married ta have all this?"

Teresa nodded as she bent to pick up her own plate of goodies.  
Johnny grinned, "so if next week Scott plans on getting' married an' then tha followin' week tha Old Ma… I mean Murdoch thinks o' getting' hitched we'd get all this again?"

The edges of Scott's mouth turned up, "you know Johnny if you took the long walk down the aisle, there would be a big, huge spectacular cake just for you."

"And your bride," Teresa added with a grin.  
"Really," the younger Lancer son had 'visions' dancing in his eyes along with mischief as its partner.

Murdoch rose out of his chair and with a serious look on his face turned to his 'children', "no one is getting married anytime soon. I just got you all back and even though one day I plan on hearing the running of little feet on these floors and the laughter of children, it will not be next week."

Scott and Johnny silently looked at each other, and then broke out into laughter.

Murdoch looked at his sons as if they had gone loco, "this is not a laughing matter. I…"

Johnny being the instigator, "so we can't get married next week, but you'd be willin' ta take a walk down that aisle so we can have more desserts like this; well "Old Man' who's tha lucky lady?"

Murdoch made that funny noise in his throat and turned a funny shade of pink, "you boys best finish up and get to bed," all three of his 'children' quoted with him, "morning comes early, this is a working ranch."

Another strangled noise in Murdoch's throat had the older Lancer turn and walk from the room, a smile on his face and a spring in his step.

Scott, Johnny, and Teresa looked between themselves and burst out laughing.

Wiping her eyes Teresa began to replace the empty plates on the trays, "leave it Teresa," Scott said, "Johnny and I will handle the clean-up."

"Yeah," Johnny clipped, "ol' Boston an' me'll get all this, gracias for bein' so good ta us."

Scott stood and placed his hands on his 'sister's' shoulders, pulled her closer and with a 'brotherly' kiss he bestowed to the top of her head, "yes little sister thank you."

"No, thank you both for coming to Lancer and making it a much happier place to call home, good night," she said as she turned and followed her guardian's exit.

 **Misfits United**

Scott heard a muffled laugh coming from the rider beside him and his eyes grew angry at each muffled guffaw.

Johnny could not help himself, he was not laughing at the pain his big brother was in, only at the reasoning behind the colorful shiner around his eye and the bruise on his right cheek. The brother's rode a little longer in total silence, when they heard a horse at full gallop come up behind them.

Scott's hand went to his gun butt, and then stalled as his younger brother, the ex-gunfighter kept facing forward, as if he did not hear the sound of hooves coming up behind them, "relax Boston it's just tha Old Man."

Murdoch spied his sons ahead of him and he urged his horse to a faster gait to catch up. He had not believed it if he had not seen it with his own eyes.

Val Crawford, the sheriff of Green River, wading into the tangle of arms and legs all kicking, punching, and grunting like heathens.

With a mighty pull, the disgruntled sheriff pulled a blond-haired individual from the squirming mass, his elder son Scott. The father in him looked first to see if his son was standing on his own, the rancher of the biggest spread in the valley pursed his lips, the reputation of Lancer was dented to be sure.

The sheriff and his son, Scott, turned to glare at a loud laugh coming from just inside the saloon.

His younger son stood just inside, his hand holding a glass beer mug, half full, was hanging over the top of the swinging double half doors.

The blue eyes, clearer and brighter than a mountain lake, were laughing at the commotion happening in the street, in clear sight of a town full of people.

Pulling up beside his sons in the middle of the road the father puffed up and kept his silence.

Johnny lost it when he saw his father's face, the bruise to his granite chin, and the cut to his lip had Johnny nearly lose his seat in the saddle, "Dios Ol' Man, guess ya broke ol' man Jepson's hand when he landed that one."

Murdoch grunted, the only reprimand to his son.

Scott urged his horse forward, towards home and the others followed. Johnny leaning over in his saddle towards his father, a finger coming closer to the bruise on his father's face, "that's gotta hurt."

Murdoch turned his face away from his sons searching finger, "leave it."

Johnny grinned and sat straighter; he felt bad that his father and brother had been hurt enough to show bruises and cuts on their faces. However, his heart was glad; they had shown they cared enough about him to do something about the perceived hurt done to him.

He glanced up at the straight back of his brother and the chiseled face of his father and he was proud.

 **Later at Lancer**

Teresa hid a smile behind her long hair as it fell over her face. The cloth dipped in one of Jelly's concoctions dabbing at the cut lip of the patron of Lancer, "hold still."

Murdoch did as requested, he wanted to pull his lips into reprimand but it hurt too much and he grimaced, "just finish and let me be."

"You sure are grouchy, if you didn't want this 'stuff' of Jelly's you wouldn't have gotten into a street brawl in the first place," Teresa hated her guardian to hurt, but this was precious.

Glancing up at Johnny, who was leaning on the fireplace mantel smiled, for once the younger Lancer son came home without a mark on him, "Will someone will tell me how the Patron of Lancer and his elder son became embroiled into a free for all in the streets of Green River. Or will I have to read it in The Green River Journal?"

Murdoch gently removed his wards small hand holding the cloth dipped in the smelly concoction of Jelly's from his face, "Suffice it to say it was worth it."

Scott strode into the great room, his black eye giving him a rakish appeal, his bath had revived him and the clean set of clothes made him feel human again, "well worth it sir."

Teresa sighed at the two older Lancer men and looked at Johnny with searching and questioning eyes, "Johnny?"

The younger Lancer shrugged his shoulders, "not much ta tell. Learned long time ago not ta get all bent outta shape 'bout what people think or say. Ya can't change tha nature of a man."

"I will not have anyone say such derogatory statements about my son," Murdoch bellowed then regretted his outburst as his lip began to bleed again.

Scott grinned, "It felt good to knock Josh Fenton into next week. He is a boorish, uncouth loud mouth who needed to be taken down a peg."

Teresa stood, hands on hips and surveyed her family, "well looks to me that Johnny was the only level head in this display, in town, in front of everyone."

Johnny had to grin, guess this was what family was, standing up for one another, a father and brother taking offense when you yourself was numb to the insults.

However, he never wanted his 'family' to get hurt defending him, "Lo siento."

"What are you sorry for son," Murdoch's voice lowered as he looked at his son.

"Seems to me that there are others should ask your forgiveness," Scott responded when Johnny dipped his head and scuffed at the floor.

Raising his head Johnny grimaced at the black eye of Scott's and the swollen lip of his father, "I know I ain't accepted by a lot of people here. Your business associates, friends, neighbors, an' I can accept that. What I can't accept is you getting' hurt on my account."

Scott stared at the man he knew to a kind and caring soul a man he could trust, a brother he cared about, "brother, you have to give yourself time; these 'friends' and neighbors will see who you really are under that façade of 'gunfighter'."

Murdoch moved to stand in front of his younger son and placed a hand, bruised and tender from his recent encounter with a solid jaw upon the shoulder of his son, "when I first came to this country I was considered lower than low, I proved myself. I may not have been the most conventional person to those in Boston or here in the valley, however I soon earned respect. It will take time for the 'good' people to see you, mi hijo, as the man you are and will be."

Scott handed out glasses of the most perfect sipping whiskey to his father and brother. With a raised glass, he smiled at two of the most important people in his life, "to the unashamed misfits of the world, I salute you."

Throwing the liquid onto the back of his throat without a nod to decorum, he grinned as his father and brother joined him.

Teresa smiled her full mouth smile her, eyes filled with love for these men of Lancer, "lunch in just a few minutes. Not knowing all that was said in town, I want you all to know I love each of you and will defend your rights to be misfits and unconventional to the truly 'conventional' in this entire Valley."

Murdoch pulled is ward into a gentle hug, "thank you dear."

Scott bowed to his 'sister', "I accept."

Johnny stared at his father and brother then down to his 'sister' and smiled, "gracias querida. Ya need ta let Jelly an' Maria know we may need more concoctions before Johnny Madrid Lancer is accepted by everyone in this valley."

The End

Solista

September 2015

" **nothing is more unnerving**

 **to the truly conventional,**

 **than the unashamed misfit"**

J.K. Rowling


End file.
